memories of all souls day
All Souls Day always brings bittersweet and nostalgic memories. I remember my childhood days of picnics at the cemetery while my parents told us stories of my great grandparents and relatives who passed away. I remember the happy memories of helping my mom prepare our picnic basket, placing flowers at our ancestors’ graves and I especially remember the subtle promises I made to myself that one day, I will take after them, make my family proud and return the favor of all their hard work and sacrifice.
We used to spend the whole day at the cemetery. We’d picnic, cajole and bond over family history as we paid our respects to our ancestors. I always remember thinking that eventually, far in the future, my grand kids and great grand kids would do the same for me. I wanted to make sure my life’s story was worth remembering and admiring. Just as I find encouragement in learning about the struggles my ancestors persevered through, I want my grand kids to find the same from me.
I’m 28 and far from that legacy. I know I’m still young and have a long way to go but, truth be told, I’m not even sure what legacy I want or am ready to leave. It’s definitely a big question and a heavy topic, but if I were to die today I don’t know if my achievements thus far are the memories I want my grand children to hear. Of course I love my life and everything God has blessed me with, but I still want to go with something bigger and brighter. Something that says I didn’t just exist, but that I lived.
I wish I was back home and able to visit that same cemetery. Reflecting back on those childhood memories and on the significance of All Souls Day, I am reminded that I am more than what I’m going through. Even as life continues to challenge me, I am strengthened by the histories that make me who I am and the support that makes everything worthwhile. I’ve been bogged down and complacent for far too long. It’s time I let the impossible happen. Besides who can be against me, when I have all of them beside me.